Masks
by Thalia Kendall
Summary: A girl named Emma Dobbs, and masks. Hiding behind facades, and shattered images. Rating for slight violence and hints of serious themes. Based on RPG. Oneshot dedicated to my friend Kimmie.


A/N: The interpretation of the character of Emma Dobbs… was created by an awesome, talented friend of mine, Kimmie. I do not claim any credit to her personality, or that of her brother Mikel. Only the story is mine.

Disclaimer: See above. Emma Dobbs, though technically a Rowling character, belongs to Kimmie. I'm just borrowing her for the purposes of this story.

~~~ Masks ~~~

Once upon a time, when she was ten and still learning the facts of life, her big brother had come home from Hogwarts, with a startlingly satisfied sort of expression on his dark face.   
  
"And how are you, dear sister?"  
  
She had told him that she was fine, being a good girl, listening to everything that her parents had been teaching her.  
  
And he had given her a long, intense look that she did not comprehend, before pulling out a small wrapped package from behind his back.  
  
"Your Christmas present, Emma."  
  
She had thanked him, of course, in the dignified manner that she had been taught. And she had opened the package alone in her room.  
  
It was a porcelain mask, lacquered in shimmering black and feathered with swirls of ethereal mother-of-pearl. There was a sparkling teardrop diamond in the middle of the forehead. A classically carved face, with a Grecian nose and chiselled, unsmiling lips, holes for the eyes to peek out of. At the sides, by where the temples were to be, there hung wide, swirling silver ribbons. It was masterfully crafted and very expensive.  
  
She'd certainly seen masks before; her parents and her brother all had them. White. Starkly menacing for its very lack of expression. Which was, of course, the intention.  
  
But this one was prettier than the others, if a bit... dark. But... delicately made, and because her brother had been the one who had given it to her, she had treasured it.  
  
She would always obey her brother, of course. His word was law. His ways were unquestioned. She had no idea where or how he'd gotten that mask.  
  
A few years later, after she had gotten to Hogwarts too and started knowing a bit more... about the way things were, and the way they were supposed to be, she asked Mikel, who was just about to leave school and join the Holy Brotherhood that all of them were destined for, about the mask.  
  
He had given her that long, intense look again, and told her the story. Briefly. Proudly.  
  
His first mission... with the 7th years of the time...  
  
A Muggle theatre... and this had been an heirloom. One of the ones that had not been smashed, burned, shattered or marred with the filthy blood...  
  
This was the way it was supposed to be. She was honoured... he had bequeathed the token of his achievements upon her.   
  
She knew that she could not say anything. She knew that she was to be happy. It was a beautiful present. She said the words that she was supposed to, and that he expected to hear.  
  
"Good. They should die. Scum. Vermin. Trash. Ruddy Muggle filth." The platitudes that she'd been trained to say fell from her lips like the blood that had fallen from their bodies when they had died.   
  
Mikel had given her a satisfied look... until he noticed something.  
  
She was biting her lip.  
  
Hesitation. A sign of tentativeness. Something not allowed. Something punishable. Something despicable. And then his face twisted into a terrifying expression, with the eyes of a madman, and before she realized what was going on, his arm had swung back, then forward, her head snapping back, an explosion of pain in her cheek.  
  
Then the other side... and there were stars before her eyes, and she trembled in fear, not knowing quite what she had done wrong, why she was being put through the pain... until he coldly told her.  
  
No hesitation. No emotions. It was all wrong and she was weak.  
  
And then, he took that delicate, fragile porcelain mask, and before her blackened eyes, shattered it against the wall...  
  
Her porcelain mask was gone... but from that day on, she wore a real one. One that was invisible and intangible. It settled over her features every morning when she woke up, like some sort of unseen film.   
  
She was Emma Dobbs. A fierce, proud, angry, Mudblood-hating Slytherin girl, with the ways of a cornered animal. Anyone who got in her way... anyone who came too close... would be hexed.   
  
And so it remained for years... the nighttime when everyone else was asleep and not watching... the only time she could be free. And then, when her brother took even that away from her... she had nothing.  
  
The girl behind the mask was disappearing.

~~~

  
  
Shattered masks... she had told Seamus the story. He had been furious, though he'd tried not to show it. Violence... she'd had too much of violence already. He merely held her tight, the love in his heart for her as fierce as the hatred that he'd felt for Mikel.   
  
Shattered masks... Seamus had, with a touch of his hand... reaching out in a way that no one else had... to catch her, to help her... he had shattered the invisible mask, just as Mikel had shattered the porcelain one.  
  
Shattered masks. Seamus found the girl hiding behind her mask. A girl dying inside, stifled by a myriad things and the image that she fought to preserve with more strength than she could afford. And he plucked it away... with his gentle fingers, and the girl inside, unmasked, naked, blinked up in the light and opened her tear-swollen eyes.  
  
Many, many years later, when she was safe, and the world was calm again, much after she had learnt how to smile and be not ashamed, he brought her a present for Christmas, with a shy, lopsided smile.  
  
She had carefully opened the box, and when she saw what was lying inside, surrounded by clouds of gold and silver tissue paper (both their colours), she grinned.  
  
A mask. Crystal. Clear and transparent, one whom no one could hide behind. Small and dainty and adorned with curlicues and flowerettes of blown glass. She held it up to her face, and peered into a mirror.  
  
Her own face, still unhidden by the mask, smiled back at her.

~~~FIN~~~


End file.
